


Tesla's Down!

by orphan_account



Category: Super Science Friends (Cartoon)
Genre: Blood and Injury, me like it when characters get hurt ho ho ho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-17
Updated: 2018-11-17
Packaged: 2019-08-24 21:26:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16648112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Tesla gets shot. that's the fic





	Tesla's Down!

Weak, trembling hands clutched the cloth of his jacket where they could feel the warm gush of blood flow between their fingers. His breaths were short and uneasy. The back of his head ached from the impact to the hard soil. The sky began to swirl above him in circles, and the sun blinded him.  


“Tesla’s down!” He heard a voice yell, then saw a figure in blue standing over him. The team's medic?  


The figure crouched down at his side. Tesla sucked in a cold breath as he felt a burning sensation over the wound. The bleeding failed to stop, leaving a sickly burgundy stain on his jacket, and the nauseating scent of copper in his nose.  


“We need to leave. This is serious.” The voice said again. A Slavic intonation only made it sound more stern.  


“But what about-”  


“Forget it. It isn't worth it.”  


Thick, muscled arms coated in hair lifted him from the ground. He bellowed a sharp, short yelp from deep in his throat when the movement accentuated the pain. Every inch of his body shook intensely, and the mop of ragged black hair atop his head was losing its shape. Wavy tresses soaked in the sweat from his forehead.  


He then found himself sitting upright in the seat of the automobile he designed with his own hands. Everyone around him hoped it wouldn't become his deathbed. Tesla only felt the bleeding cease when someone rolled up their jacket and pressured it uncomfortably against the bleeding gash.  


He couldn't remember the car ride. Maybe he fell unconscious, despite the hands gripping his shoulders and the voices telling him to stay awake. But his eyes fluttered open when he was lifted again. His own hoarse breathing rang loudly in his ears.  


He was carried up stairs and through doorways, until he was laid down again in a rusty medical cot that groaned under his weight. A warm hand gently slipped under his neck and lifted his head up to place the rim of a glass to his lips. The amber drink forced to him burned his throat. He realized it was whiskey, given to him to numb the pain. He soon fell unconscious again, and the hand holding the cloth of his coat went limp.  


It was night time when he woke up. He felt more sore than anything now. The soiled suit had been pulled off of him, and he was now wearing starched pajamas. His hand instinctively went to the wound, only to find bandages covering it. When he gathered the strength to pull his head upward and look at it, he saw a faint green glow pulse underneath the gauze.  


Now that he thought about it, the entire room buzzed with a foreign energy. It put a crawl on his skin; not painful, but rather, somewhat comforting. It was a small room he recognized as the closet that was converted to become Marie’s medical office. Just enough room for a cot, a desk of supplies, and a wooden chair. The chair, he noticed, was occupied. Madame Curie was sleeping peacefully, her chin slumped to her collar, and her hands delicately folded on her lap. The slouch of her back told him that she had exhausted herself with his treatment.  


Tesla wanted to thank her for what she did. But he knew she would appreciate it more if she were left to sleep. He could wait until the morning to speak with her.


End file.
